


Tampering with the Books

by AvensGrandchild



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Humor, Friendship/Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Just continuing the slow burn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 10:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21242870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvensGrandchild/pseuds/AvensGrandchild
Summary: Crowley is threatened by a demon hunter. After centuries of Crowley rescuing Aziraphael it's now the angels turn to return the favor and save his friend. Of course everything goes pear shaped.





	Tampering with the Books

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fanfiction where:  
-Saint Peter goes on vacation.  
-An angel dies.  
-A demon's heart breaks.  
-Jennie has a cameo. (Happy birthday Jennie!)  
-The author shamelessly stole a line from Dr Who.
> 
> Reviews of Tampering with the Books:
> 
> "The biggest literary success since John's Revelations!"  
-God Morning Britain
> 
> "It has everything! Except unicorns, but it's ok."  
-Mythological Weekly
> 
> "If you're only gonna read one book this year, then you're probably not really into reading and this one will do just fine."  
-The Guardian Times of Daily Telegraph
> 
> "A true Masterpiece!"  
-Absolutely no one

Tampering with the books

The Bentley was going way to fast, rushing through the landscape with a speed that made the heavy raindrops appear to hoover in the air.  
'Crowley, slow down! You're gonna get us dicorporated!' Aziraphael shouted for the third time during their ride. They've had breakfast at a lovely tavern just outside the city but now the angel feared that it was all in vain and this meal would promptly reappear due to motion sickness.  
'The road is wet and slippery, be careful or you will crash and destroy the car!' This made Crowley slow down just a little and Aziraphael relaxed.  
'Honestly dear, we're in no hurry back, why not enjoy the view in a tranquil pace?'  
The demon snorted at this.  
'There's nothing enjoyable what so ever with this scenery, it looks like a dish cloth that has been used frequently for far to long.'  
'Well...' Aziraphael tried '...it might be a bit grey and damp but it looks kind of cozy. We can always pretend that we're in a gothic novel.'  
Crowley didn't even bother to answer.  
'Whatever is that?' The angel said suddenly, fixing his eyes at the distant. 'Oh, Crowley, stop the car! That poor young woman needs a lift!'  
'We can't pick up strangers by a country road side, we have no idea who she is.'  
'But it's raining and she's probably very cold!'  
'She will dampen the seats of my car!'  
'Crowley!'  
'Allright, allright!'  
Crowley muttered sourly as he stopped the car a few feet from the woman. She did not approach them. Aziraphael got out of the car.  
'Good day to you, madam! We saw you standing here in the rain and thought to inquire if you would like a ride? The car is perfectly safe when driven at a legal speed.'  
The woman did not move, she kept her eyes at the drivers seat and did not answer. Crowley who by now was not-so-mildly annoyed got out aswell and stomped up to the angels side.  
'Here you go! Now we're all out here in the rain, getting soaked! Can you please make my ever well meaning friend happy and get in the bloody car so we can drop you off and go on with our day?!'  
The young woman fixed her dark eyes on Crowley.  
'Are you the demon they call Crowley?' She spoke with a soft and almost girly voice. The demon was surprised to be recognised but didn't let it shine through.  
'In the flesh.' He answered. 'And who might you be?'  
Faster than the blink of an eye the woman had reached behind her back and produced a crossbow, aiming steadily at the demon.  
'Pleased to meet you at last. It took a while to find you, Crowley, for a hellbeing with your reputation you keep quite the low profile.'  
Both the angel and the demon froze.  
'Now that is very rude!' Aziraphael stated. 'What do you want and why the need to threaten us? After we offered to save you from the rain and all! Who are you?'  
'I am the daugter of a son.' She spoke, the crossbow aimed somewhere near Crowleys heart.  
'Well, that is not an unusual thing to be...' started Aziraphael but Crowley cut him short.  
'A son? As in The Sons? The demon hunter fellowship? I thought I had taken care of your lot, you say that you're an offspring?'  
'In the flesh.' The woman answered, mimicking Crowley, in a tone that sounded to soft for a potential killer.  
'You can't harm me with that, Pumpkin.' Crowley nodded at the crossbow.  
'Are you sure?' She answered with a hint of a smile that lasted for a quarter of a second. 'The arrow is poisoned. Achillea Ptarmica.'  
Crowley grew pale and Aziraphael made a sharp inhale.  
'Achillea Ptarmica?' He said in disbelief. 'Angelsbreath? But that would not only discorporate him, that would kill him!'  
'Indeed it will.' The woman straightened her back, a finger on the crossbow trigger.  
'Well, I will not stand for this!' Aziraphael took a step to the side and shielded the demon with his body, wings unfolded.  
'Lower your weapon and step away, he's a good person and you're not allowed to smite him -Ouch!'  
Crowley looked past Aziraphael's wing and saw the angel look down in great disbelief at the arrow portruding his chest through his favorite beige silk vest. In two steps the demon was by the occult assassins side, eyes burning like hellfire.  
'Tell them I said hi!' He snarled and by a flick of his wrist the woman vanished from earth only to reappear in Beelzebubs lap, both equally shocked. Crowley carefully helped the angel jank the arrow from his chest and sealed the wound.  
'Get in the car, Angel, let's go home.'

⸙

Crowley was having a full on rage episode, clenching the steering wheel while pushing the Bentley to the brink of collapse.  
'That bitch of a Son! The audacity to think that she could... Angelsbreath...Satan almost allmighty, I hope she rot in...' He glanced over to Aziraphael in the passenger seat; the angel was quiet and -if Crowley was not mistaken- looked even more pallid than usual, tugging on the top button of his vest.  
'Hey Angel, are you allright?'  
'Eyes on the road, dear.' Even his voice seemed bleak. Crowley obliged.  
'I guess I should thank you, you know, for taking the hit for me. I could be dead now. Good thing you're not a demon!'  
'But it seems that I might be just enough of a bastard.'  
Crowley turned and met the angels eyes, they were wide open and deeply troubled.  
'What...' And then he saw that Aziraphael had unbuttoned his vest and shirt. There was a black mark on his chest that was slowly spreading like ink in water. The demon hissed and almost lost control over the car.  
'We need to get you to a hospital!'  
'I don't think a human hospital can help with this.' The angel answered. 'Best be the bookshop, there migt be some clues to what to do.'  
Crowley nodded and stepped on the gas, trying to stifle the panic rising within him.

⸙

When they arrived at the bookshop Aziraphael was too weak to stand so Crowley had to gracelessly drag him in and place him in the reading space tartan armchair. The way the angel immediately slumped over to the side made Crowley's gut feel like it had taken on the ice bucket challenge. The black mark on the angels body was steadily spreading and had reached the neck. Crowley began rummaging around amongst the shelves, franticly looking for...something...whatever...anything that could help.  
'Angel, help me out here, tell me where to look and preferably what to look for!'  
'You're in the cooking section dear, try the old volumes in the glass cabinet. It's my special collecton and there should be something about herbology and etherical manipulation.'  
'Why do you own such books?' Crowley began pulling out and looking through every leather inbound copy.  
'Careful!' Aziraphael ghasped. 'They are very rare. I own all kinds of books, those are for protection.'  
'Etherical manipulation, you say?' A hint of hurt found its way into Crowleys words. 'Do you think that I pose a threat to you?'  
'Not you, never you. But there are people on your former side... and my former side...who worries me.'  
'Your side? Really? You don't trust heaven, that's a new one! You're quite the cynic deep down, and here I thought you were a romantic.'  
'A bit of both I suppose...'Aziraphael replied as Crowley discovered the small book of poems with a dedication on the first page.  
'To my dearest Aziraphael with all my devotion. Oscar.' The demon was taken aback.  
'You knew Oscar Wilde? How?... Did you?... Were you?...'  
'He was a very nice man. Charming, funny and very stylish.'  
Crowley put the book back on the shelf a bit to harshly.  
'I suppose that flamboyant dandy is just about your type.' Since he had his back to the armchair he didn't see the angel eying him up and down, having an epiphany.  
'Yes, quite. I suppose it is.'  
'This is useless, I can't find anything!' Crowley wanted to shove the books to the floor and kick them for not cooperating. 'He loves you. He pleaded to the books. 'Why can't you save him?!' And then, with a quick glance to the side making sure the angel didn't hear him, he mumbled driven by sheer desperation: 'Please God, please. Do not take him from me.'

⸙

At that very instant God decided to grant Saint Peter the long ado vacation he had needed since the years of the crusades. (A rough time, hard to keep track of who's going where.) At first he hesitated, always been a sucker for responsibility dear old Pete, but then he quickly warmed to the idea of a break.  
'But who will manage the gatekeeping and the ledger while I'm gone?' He said, glancing at the great volume that held the names of all souls permitted into Paradise.  
'Oh, not to worry!' God replied, patting him reasuringly on the shoulder. 'I know just the angel for the task.'

⸙

'Jennie required at the pearly gates! Jennie required at the pearly gates!'  
Jennie, head secretary at the HOCE (Heavenly Office of Copying and Editing), woke abruptly from her daydreaming. The centre of her absent musings, the extravagant novel she had been working on for the last four hundred years, was soon to be completed. Now she only had to write it down. She had decided to write it in the genre Romantic and the style of Human, how hard could it be? Jennie did not know this but she was sort of a legend in the office. She was the fastest reader and typist by far and mastered every language, script and means of communication. And she was very effective when she focused on the work and not on her favourite occupation: homo sapien litterature. When Moses was on the mountain, ruining his fifth stone plate trying to copy the commandments, Jennie's stern gaze had fell upon him and with the words 'I am NOT waiting another forty years.' she had gone down and fixed it herself.  
'Jennie required at the pearly gates!' Jennie, startled once more, gathered her folder and hurried out of the office.

⸙

Whatever she was expecting to see at the pearly gates it wasn't God herself. 'Oh gosh, the big boss! Stand straight, how's the hair? Be articulate!'  
'Hello Jennie, so glad you could come!' God said smiling encouraging.  
'Nnghrp!' Jennie manage to produce while dropping three papers from the folder.  
'I have a special task for you.' God picked up the papers and handed them to her. 'Saint Peter has taken some well deserved time off and is going on a motorcycle trip through the Alpes. I need you to fill in for him.'  
Jennie looked dumbstruck.  
'Me? But I don't have any experience at all with...' She looked at the shining gates guarding Paradise and the podium with the ledger. '...guarding.'  
'Oh no worries, you'll get the hang of it! Don't think about it as much as guarding, more as... welcoming. Just check the names of the arriving with the ledger, if their names are there they are welcome through the gates, if not then they are welcome elsewhere.'  
'But...'  
'You will do great. I have faith in you!' And with those words God strode out, discreetly leaving her favorite pen next to the ledger. Jennie was left, frozen like a deer in the headlights, clutching the folder to her chest.

⸙

'Crowley...' Aziraphael's voice was barely audible but Crowley was at his side in a second. The angel was ashen, with dark shadows under eyes that darted around as if he lost his sight. They settled on the demons face and held on to it the way a drowning shipwrecked man clutches to a piece of scattered wood.  
'That's what I'll be without him.' The demon thought, kneeling before his friend. 'Shipwrecked. No more walks or talks or banter. No more dining at the Ritz. No more frowns at teasing jokes. No one left who I really like and no one left who likes me even though he knows me.'  
'Crowley...' The angel patted his hand.  
'Yes angel.'  
'I just... want you to know that I'm so very greatful to have known you...'  
'Stop it!'  
'And that it has been an honour to have you as my friend...'  
'Angel, I'm warning you!'  
Aziraphael closed his eyes and whispered:  
'It's so ironic. All this time you were the good one.'  
'Shut up!!!' Crowley jumped to his feet and started a spasmodic pace back and forth the room. 'Shut up, Angel, Shut up!'  
'Still sensitive about the Nice Guy thing, hey?' The question delivered with a bleak smile.  
'I don't care what you call me, you daft piece of... you can't just talk like you're not gonna make it!'  
'But it's true. And it's okay.' Aziraphael reached out towards him but he was too weak and had to let the hand fall back again.  
'No, no, no! It's NOT okay! None of this is okay! It should be I dying, that arrow was for me, not you! You're supposed to live because... because... without you, existence is utterly and completely pointless!' Crowley halted midstep and took a deep shaking breath. He hesitated before continuing: 'And I suppose... if it's my last chance to say it... Angel... I...' And then he felt it. The silence and the void. He looked at the body left in the armchair and realised from the emptiness that Azirapahael was gone.

⸙

The full saying is actually ”When Hell freezes over and a demon's heart break” because either only happens on very rare occations. When an angel or a demons heart break there is a terrible sound, like stars collapsing, that can be heard throughout Heaven and Hell alike. Although when Crowley's heart broke the sound was drowned in Hell by a really loud fight between a newly arrived american senator and a two faced demon. And in Heaven by Saint Peter kickstarting his old Norton motorcycle and riding off towards the Alpes.

⸙

'It's funny. Not existing feels a lot like... existing.' Aziraphael opened one eye and then the other and found himself standing at the top of a wide and long staircase. 'Where am I? This does not feel like Heaven and I'm pretty sure I'm not in Hell -it's to bright.' When he looked down he could see his whole life played before him, every step of the staircase a scene, an event of importance. He could see the almost-end-of-the-world, every place he had visited throughout history, every moment lived, and at the bottom of the stairs he saw the day of creation. 'Quite a life.' He thought. His eyes were drawn to the moment on the great wall of Eden, the day he first met Crowley (or Crawley as he had introduced himself). 'My, we really have known eachother for some time. I do hope he's alright.'

⸙

'Excuse me, mister!'  
The voice startled the angel and he spun around to face its source.  
'Oh, Aziraphael, hi! I didn't see it was you!' Jennie ajusted her glasses and smiled at the angel.  
'Jennie, good fortune, how nice it is to see you! It's been a long time.'  
The expression of relief on Jennie's face was obvious as she hurried towards Aziraphael to meet him.  
'I'm so glad you dropped by! I'm not sure about my tasks and I feel like I'm about to screw this up terribly...' She stopped and looked at the staircase. 'Is this... your life?'  
'Yes, I think it is.'  
Jennie frowned.  
'But I thought only humans came this way, why didn't you just go through the main entrance?'  
Aziraphael felt it unnecessary to explain that head office had discharged him of his angel duties due to the event of not Armageddon.  
'I'm not sure. To be frank I don't really know where I am.'  
Jennie gestured at the majestic high gates and the podium with the ledger behind them.  
'The pearly gates, the entrance to Paradise. Kind of impressive, right?'  
'But where is Pete?'  
'He's on vacation and I'm filling in for him, God asked me to keep an eye on things and welcome the new arrivals.' Jennie manage to sound utterly proud and deeply terrified at the same time.  
'God asked you in person?'  
Jennie nodded. Aziraphael looked at her in disbelief.  
'But nobody has seen God in... ages.'  
This statement made Jennie confused.  
'Well it's the first time that I have spoken to her in person but she drops by the office now and then. And she has after work with the quantum masons down at the physics office every other saturday. I think she avoids Head Office though, rumor has it she finds the archangels a bit stiff.'  
Aziraphael crouched and hushed her.  
'Aren't you afraid they'll hear you?!'  
Jennie made a sweeping movement with her hand to suggest that they were shielded.  
'Paradise is separate from Heaven, another dimension, it does not fall under Head Office's juristiction. They're not involved with the afterlife of humans.'  
At this statement, Aziraphael saw his chance.  
'I'm afraid there's been some kind of mistake. I was on a mission on earth and had the great unfortune of getting myself... killed. Quite inconvenient really. I was wondering, could you be a gem and assist me back to earth? I have rather important things to do and this whole death thing is slowing down process.'  
Jennie looked sceptic.  
'I don't know, should't we talk to Head Office about it? I can go and ask Gabriel right n...'  
'No need!' Aziraphael interrupted her. Why bother them with minor inconviniences like this when it's not their juristiction? God gave you this position because she trusted you to handle it.'  
Jennie still wasn't convinced. Aziraphael smiled sweetly at her.  
'You know, I have been positioned on earth for a very long time now, there are so many marvelous things. Could I get you anything when I get back?' Inside, he could imagine his conscience looking at him in baffled terror, saying; 'Really? Bribing the gatekeeper?'  
Jennie stood silent for a while, fidgeting her folder. Then she spoke.  
'Well, I've been working on this project the last couple of years, it's a novel written the human way.'  
'Oh, how splendid!' Aziraphael exclaimed and clapped his hands. 'I adore human litterature, what language have you choosen?'  
'All of them.'  
'At the same time?'  
'Of course.' Jennie looked bemused at the question. 'Would be awfully hard to keep to just one local word composition, wouldn't it? Can't get the full range that way.'  
Aziraphael was not sure that this was the human way to write a novel but would never say so.  
'Anyway.' Jennie continued. 'It would be of tremendous help if i could get my hands on some human books, preferably of the romantic sort. Something where they go to public human eating spaces.'  
'You want books where people go on dinner-dates at restaurants?'  
'Well yes, I think it seems wonderful and it's what humans do when they want to show someone that they love them, isn't it?'  
Aziraphael recalled all the numerous times that Crowley had taken him out to lunch or dinner or a late night snack and the angel had his second epiphany for the day. And his first experience of feeling homesick.  
'It's a great plan.' He said. 'Almost ineffable. I will send you the most romantic litterature the humans have produced.'  
Jennie beamed with joy at the prospect of doing some hands on research for her novel.  
'I will go sort to the paperwork!' She said and scurried off.

⸙

Left to himself by the gates of Paradise, Aziraphael decided to get a sneek peek at the mortals eternal habitat. Aproaching the entrance he realised that the gates looked very similar to the ones guarding St. James Park in London. Actually they were identical. The iron bars, the gilded ornaments -it was the same gates! At first it puzzled him, the great coincidence that the gates to Paradise so much resembled one of his favorite places on earth. And then it dawned on him: they looked like that for him because he loved St. James Park, to any other person aproaching the gates would look like something else. The gates to a long lost childhood home, a forest path windling past great trees, an old wooden wicket leading to a beloved cottage, something that made the person feel safe and welcomed.  
'She's so clever.' The angel mumbled, a lump in his throath. 'Clever and kind.'  
His eyes fell on the ledger and suddenly an idea came to him, much like the discovery of a new bright star. He looked over his shoulder to make sure he was still unseen and made his way to the great volume that held the names of all humans spending eternity in paradise. He opened it. -So many names! Aziraphael picked up the bright pink Bic for Her ballpoint pen fortunately lying next to the Book of Life, found a page with an empty spot and wrote:  
Aziraphael -Angel.  
Looked around nervously once more before writing down:  
Anthony J. Crowley -Demon. A nice one.  
'There!' Aziraphael thought. 'Now I just need to appear inconspicuous. Play it cool...'

⸙

Jennie came back and found Aziraphael standing straight as a lamp post, fumbling with the hem of his vest while whistling a tune that sounded a bit like Who wants to live forever by Queen.  
'The papers are all in order and filed. Any damage to your earthly body is taken care of, you're ready to go!'  
Aziraphael shook the head secretary angels hand.  
'Thank you so much Jennie, it's been a pleasure seeing you again. I'll make sure to send the books up straight away!'  
Before he started descending the stairs he turned around to say:  
'You're doing a splendid job as a guardian, Jennie, splendid!'  
The compliment meant a lot coming from the former guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden and Jennie smiled proudly as she waved goodbye. She wasn't quite sure why Aziraphael had left that position but she imagined it had something to do with the humans relocating.

⸙

When Aziraphael returned to his body with a sharp inhale Crowley made a high pitched sound of terror and darted backwards from the armchair.  
'Oh dear, I am so sorry if I startled you!' The angel said. He flexed his arms and wiggled his feet; everything seemed to be working. Crowley stood speechless infront of him.  
'No place like home.' The angel mumbled and turned his eyes towards the demon. 'Dear Crowley, are you alright? Have you been crying?'  
'I'm fine... fine... I just... It's dusty in here, to many old books... fine...' Crowley muttered with a soar voice and hurried to put on his shaded glasses. But as soon as the angel got up from the chair he catched him in a tight hug.  
'I thought I'd lost you!' He sobbed.  
'Bbmffh!' Aziraphael huffed, arms pinned to his sides, no air left in his lungs. Good thing he did not really have to breathe. Crowley took a step back and put his hands in his pockets.  
'Glad to have you back, Angel.' he said, avoiding eye contact.  
'As am I.' The angel stated with great amount of relief. And then he recalled.  
'You were saying something right before I … passed. It sounded like it was important but I didn't catch it. What was it that you wanted to tell me?'  
'I wanted... you to know that... you are... that I...' 'Oh get a grip!' The demon thought to himself. 'Be brave and just tell him!'  
'Lunch!' He blurted out. 'You must be hungry, let me take you to lunch!' 'I will tell him. Eventually.' He thought. 'Why is he blushing? It's not like I haven't asked him out to eat before.'  
'Lunch sounds lovely, dear.' Aziraphael said and grabbed his coat. 'Oh, that reminds me! We have to pick up some books on the way!'  
'Anything for you, Angel.'

THE END


End file.
